


But what's puzzling you?

by RiverOfFandoms



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Character Development, F/M, Farmer Negan, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), One Shot, Original Character(s), POV Negan (Walking Dead), Random & Short, Scars, but I liked it enough, kind of stupid, more than friends?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24071524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverOfFandoms/pseuds/RiverOfFandoms
Summary: In which Negan accidentally attends farmer-reader's funeral for her dead caterpillar, and they become friends.AKA: I wrote this at 2am and edited it while drinking wine. (I thought it was fun and stupid but still in character enough to post, plus, I needed a break from "serious" writing).
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead) & Original Female Character(s), Negan (Walking Dead) & You, Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Character(s), Negan (Walking Dead)/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	But what's puzzling you?

**Author's Note:**

> I liked writing for Negan and may have... other... things written, let me know if that's something you'd be interested in reading.

Negan liked the work. It took his mind off other things. Even though he got the occasional scowl or frown from passersby, it was nothing compared to being cooped up inside a cage all day. He wasn’t free from his past, but he was given a chance to escape his head for a little while.

She was crouched over a tomato plant, inspecting the thing that lay in the dirt. Her brows furrowed, she poked at it with a small stick and sighed. She glanced up at the workers around her with a hand above her eyes, to shade them from the sun.

“What are you doing?” a slow, gravelly voice asked behind her.

She turned her head to look over her shoulder, and she met eyes with the prisoner, Negan. He had been let out again today to work in the gardens. His favorite were the tomato plants, but he’d never worked in her patch before, so he didn’t really know her all that well. In fact, he was sure he’d never seen her before in his life.

She pointed to the thing in the dirt, “Dead caterpillar,” she said.

Negan stared at her with a kind of ‘are you kidding me’ look, his brows creased in confusion, “Dead caterpillar?” he came closer to the plant, crouching right beside the girl to inspect it.

“Yeah,” she continued, sadly, “looks like somebody stepped on it, its brains splattered onto the ground,” she poked carelessly at it again.

Negan’s confused frown turned into a shit-eating grin, and he looked up from the caterpillar and caught her eyes, “What, was he your buddy or something?”

The girl nodded, “His name was Buddy. He sat on this leaf. He must’ve crawled down for a change in scenery, but someone didn’t see him as they walked through the patch.”

His mouth hung open a little, his eyes narrowed, “You’re fuckin’ serious, aren’t you?” he said, shaking his head. He eyed the dead caterpillar, still in the dirt. She was right, the head was squished in and its brains leaked out onto the ground. He suddenly felt squeamish and looked away from it, thinking back to shittier times.

She nodded her head in sympathy, thinking Negan was upset over the death. “Poor guy,” she cooed, and proceeded to bury the caterpillar with the loose dirt around the plant. It didn’t take long, since it was just a bug, and had a very small body. She didn’t like staring at it anymore, it only saddened her. 

“Negan,” a voice growled, and Negan looked up into a pair of familiar eyes. They belonged to the security guard that watched him like a hawk on his days out of the cell. He had a tendency to make Negan stick firmly to the rules that were set out for him, in fact, Negan was sure the guy got off on it. “What did I tell you ‘bout getting close to the workers? Stay two meters away from them—”

“He can’t,” she interrupted. Negan turned to her at the sudden sound of her voice, clear as day, and he frowned.

“I’m teaching him how to tend to the plants properly, and I can’t do that two meters away from him,” she continued, explaining her argument. Negan hid his smile by tilting his head away from the guard. She was a sly one.

“But Michonne has strict—”

“I already talked to Michonne about this,” she practically sighed, rolling her eyes at the man. “If she’s gonna bring fresh blood into _my_ tomato patch, then he’s gotta learn from _me._ Don’t make me bring it up with her again, she doesn’t like being annoyed by the farmers.”

Negan looked at her curiously when he realized she must have been the farmer in charge of this quarter of the gardens. He remembered the name mentioned, Y/N. He blinked, just a minute ago, he thought you were only a damn kid crying over a dead caterpillar.

The guard narrowed his eyes at her, “She didn’t tell me…”

“Go ask her yourself then, but I gotta warn you, she hates being asked to repeat herself,” she argued, challenging him. He stared back, contemplating her suggestion. But to both Negan and her relief, the guard just shook his head and grumbled, stalking off in the other direction, letting Negan be.

Negan watched as the man leaned back up against the garden shed to avoid the blistering sun, keeping in the shade. The guard’s eyes lingered on Negan’s before he turned away. Negan looked back at the girl, suddenly curious, “You didn’t actually talk to Michonne, did you?” he knew a liar when he saw one.

She glanced at him, pressing the dirt down with her grubby hands, “Nope.”

He twisted his mouth humorously, “So, what’s with the backup?”

She shrugged, “You came to Buddy’s funeral.”

Negan couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he was suddenly sure she had a few screws loose. He rubbed the scruff of his chin in thought, wondering how a pretty girl like her could be this crazy. “Because I attended your fuckin’ caterpillar friend’s funeral? I didn’t even know the thing died.”

“Exactly, but you stayed anyway and listened to me talk about him,” she finished with moving the dirt and wiped her hands onto her faded, denim overalls. One of the straps was loose from its clasp and revealed the cream-colored, long-sleeve that peeked through. The neckline curved close to her collarbones, and he spotted a mark on her skin, poking out from underneath the fabric.

Negan eyed her neck and then looked back up at her face. She peered down at the tomato plant, now with a pair of garden clippers, removing dead stems and cutting down ripe tomatoes. Her eyes were focused on the task at hand. Her skin looked soft and her face gentle, though there was sweat on her upper lip and dirt smudged on her cheeks.

He couldn’t understand this encounter for the life of him, and he was suddenly intrigued by her more than anything else. “If a dead caterpillar makes you sad, how the hell have you lasted this long?” he wasn’t afraid to be honest. When he was in charge of the Saviors, he was always honest because if anyone had anything to say, he’d probably bash their head in, and so he grew used to it. Now that he was a prisoner, it didn’t really matter what he said most of the time, the people around Alexandria didn’t care for him much either way so there was no point in being nice.

She shrugged.

He shook his head in disbelief, “You realize you’re mourning over a caterpillar, right? Not an actual person?” he wanted to make sure if she really was crazy, and if she was, then why the hell was she given a position of responsibility? Hell, why was she given a spot in Alexandria at all? 

She eyed him; her eyes were suddenly bright. She smiled, “I know.” She glanced down at the spot of dirt that she shifted, “I just got used to the little guy, is all. It’s a big, fuckin’ lonely world out there now, isn’t it?” she tilted her head as she questioned him.

He was almost speechless. He couldn’t figure the girl out and it bugged him to the core. “I guess so,” he muttered, scratching the back of his head.

Somebody walked by behind them, a couple farmers, and whacked Negan’s cap off his head. They laughed as it fell to the ground and kept walking, whispering about him as they left. Negan watched them walk down the pathway towards the center of town, his mouth twisted in annoyance.

She reached for the hat with her delicate fingers and lifted it from the hot concrete. She turned, still crouched, and hopped up like some kind of fuckin’ meercat. She eyed the two boys who hit his hat off his head, and yelled after them, “Bunch a’ wusses! Come back here and hit him like real men!”

Negan’s eyes widened at her sudden defense, and he felt the urge to laugh at her defiance. He ran a hand through his now exposed hair, nervously; he could still hold his own in a fight, but that kind of behavior wasn’t exactly encouraged from a prisoner. He glanced from the image of her, standing there with narrowed eyes and a cute little frown on her lips, to the two boys who heard her yell.

Their eyes were wide, and with quick stumbles and shouts, they disappeared around the corner of a small building, obviously not wanting to fight Negan. He smirked, course they didn’t wanna fuckin’ fight him, they were just being asshole kids.

She watched them go, and then she dropped to a crouch again, wiping the sweat off her forehead. Bits of her hair stuck to her skin from the summer heat, and she sighed, playing with his cap in her hands. “I hate those guys, they always fuckin’ come ‘round here doing stupid shit. I know they’re kids but they still piss me off,” she grumbled. She realized she was still holding his hat in her hands, and to his surprise, she moved towards him and lifted the cap over his head.

Negan watched her as she got close enough for him to smell the morning shower on her, some kind of vanilla soap, and the hint of sweat from working hard in the sun. He blinked, caught off-guard by her willingness to be this close.

Her fingers ran through his hair as she tucked the loose strands underneath the cap, and she set it down on his head, planting it firmly. Her hands let go of the hat and she smiled at him, “Good as new.”

He watched as she sat down in the dirt, furiously working at the plant again. She had to be fuckin’ crazy, he concluded.

He cleared his throat, eyes darting this way and that to see if anyone was watching. He peeked at her from underneath the hat, “You know who I am?” he genuinely asked, somewhat suddenly, eyes narrowed. He didn’t move from his spot, but he occasionally picked at the plant, trimming it, or removing a ripe tomato.

“Yep,” she said, eyeing a freshly picked tomato that she held up in her hand. She brushed the dirt from it and placed it in her basket, “You’re the prisoner, Negan. I don’t think we’ve met.”

He chuckled at her carelessness, nodding his head. “No, we haven’t. You’re Y/N?”

“Yep,” she repeated, eyeing him through the leaves.

“When did you come to Alexandria?”

She chewed the inside of her bottom lip in thought, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, “‘Bout the same time you did, after the war. I was living at Hilltop through all of that. Alexandria said they needed some farmers to help get things going, so I offered to move here. Seemed like a nice enough place.”

He blinked. He hadn’t realized she was around during the war between the Saviors and the three communities. Most people who were around back then looked at him with disgust, hell, even the people who weren’t. But here she as, talking away as if he hadn’t made a lot of people angry enough to want to kill him for what he did.

He scratched at his chin, swatting a fly away from his nose, “How old are you?”

She shrugged, “Not really sure anymore, but I was around nineteen when shit hit the fan,” she said, casually. She thought she was close to thirty by now, but age and birthdays and time as they used to know it didn’t seem to matter as much anymore.

Negan nodded slowly, thinking she was probably around twenty-eight. But she was barely an adult when everything started. He couldn’t imagine being her age when all this crap began, let alone someone like Rick’s kids. But them growing up in the world as it was now surely meant that they had a better chance at surviving it, right?

He readjusted his cap, the sun’s heat getting to him. He felt the sweat on the back of his neck and under his shirt. He wondered how she could put up with the heat while wearing those overalls and long-sleeve, not that he would complain. She looked damn fine in them.

“Lunch break is soon,” she said, noticing Negan’s sudden fidgeting. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “Need some water?”

He nodded, “Thanks,” he took the spare bottle she had with her from her hand as she outstretched it towards him, his fingers touching hers for only a second. He unscrewed the lid and gulped down a few mouthfuls, feeling refreshed. “I probably can’t stay for lunch, though, gotta get back to my cell to eat.”

She blinked, “I’ve got a sandwich with your name on it, literally.”

He wiped his face, glancing to the dirt in an attempt to hide his amusement. He couldn’t understand her relaxed attitude towards him. If people weren’t looking at him in disgust, they’d avert their gaze and pretend he didn’t even exist. But she was different. She was offering him a place at her lunch table instead of feeling relieved that he had to get back to his cage.

He locked eyes with her, “Better be careful, you’ll end up in the bad books of Alexandria.” His voice was low.

“I’m already in the bad books,” she mused, a humorous glint in her eye. “Not everyone likes a girl who makes friends with caterpillars.”

He shook his head at this, but this time, couldn’t help the smile on his lips.

She dropped the last tomato into her basket and rolled up her sleeves, sighing. She lifted the basket as she stood, and Negan stood up alongside her. He walked with her as he noticed the faded scars on her arms now that the sleeves were rolled up to her elbows.

He frowned and averted his eyes, staring at the concrete path they followed. A sudden surge of panic climbed in his throat, and his heart jumped out of his chest. Was that his doing? Did one of his Saviors catch her at Hilltop and beat her bloody, scar her arms? His breathing twisted in his gut and hitched in his throat, thoughts of what he indirectly caused to the people around him tormented him day in, day out. Sometimes, he’d see a child without one of their parents and he’d assume it was because of him.

She set the basket down with a bunch of others from the same patch. She stood up straight again and stretched her arms above her head, her eyes closed. She looked peaceful, but Negan couldn’t look away from the scars. She reached for the sandwiches that were neatly set out for the workers on a picnic table. She picked them up, her eyes inspecting the names scribbled over the cloths that were used to wrap them up and keep them fresh.

“Negan,” she confirmed, and tossed him his sandwich. He fumbled with it and almost dropped it to the ground since he was so distracted, but she didn’t seem to notice as she scanned the others for hers.

She grabbed hers and she beckoned for him to follow her to a shady tree, not far from the tomato patch, a little way out of sight. A decent amount of shade covered the green grass, making it cool to the touch, and there was a light breeze since they climbed uphill. He sat down next to her and tore open his sandwich wrap, he turned the thing over in his hands, tomato, cheese, lettuce. He smiled.

She gulped down a couple mouthfuls of water and resumed to eating her lunch. She was watching the kids out on the field running and playing. She liked this spot under the tree because she could survey everyone; she liked to observe.

Negan finished his sandwich pretty quickly. He shook the crumbs out of the cloth and folded it up, after staring at his name scribbled on it. His eyes fell on her arms again, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. He looked away and said, “Did I do that?”

She turned to him; her head tilted. Her eyes searched his hazel ones when he finally looked back at her. He carefully touched the underside of her arm, where most of the scars seemed to decorate, or were most prominent. There were deep gashes and small cuts, too much variety to be of her own doing, he concluded, but he could never be certain. She didn’t flinch away at his touch.

She watched as his calloused fingers traced her skin. He lifted his hand away when he realized what he was doing and stared out over Alexandria.

“No… no, this happened before the Saviors. Before Hilltop.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. He swallowed, shaking his head, “Sorry, I just… I didn’t—”

“S’okay,” she nodded. She glanced down at the scars that littered her arm. “Got caught up with the wrong people.”

He nodded. She didn’t owe him an explanation, he knew that, but he was grateful to her for telling him anyway. As much as he looked back on what he did with contempt and guilt, he would never forgive any asshole that abused a woman like that – a gentle person like her.

“Thanks for the sandwich,” Negan said, after a long silence.

She nodded, brushing the crumbs off her overalls. “Can’t have my workers starve,” was all she said in response.

“What did you do?” she asked suddenly, her knees were hugged to her chest, but her head was turned so that she looked at him. Her eyes were narrowed and there was a crumb left on her bottom lip.

Negan’s brows furrowed, and his first thought was, what didn’t he do?

“You know,” she continued, pointing to another quarter of the gardens, “when you were working in Lucy’s patch. What’d ya do to piss her off so much?”

He looked at the grass. A small smile curved his lips. He finally looked back up at her, his hazel eyes sparkled with amusement, “I… might’ve… put the wrong mulch into her wheelbarrow…and she didn’t notice in time.”

She laughed, a bright, big laugh, her hand covering her mouth. She shook her head, “I knew it. I knew you did something…”

“Hey,” he argued, “she started it. She kept making snide comments…”

“What happened to killing them with kindness?” her eyes lingered on his for a moment, and he realized she’d been watching him longer than he watched her.

“Well, when that doesn’t work, a little sabotage doesn’t hurt anyone,” he joked, his eyes darted to his hands. He licked his lips, “How’d you know I did something, anyway?”

She bit the inside of her lip in hesitation, “You’re a good worker, I’ve seen you in the gardens. I knew she wouldn’t kick you out just because you were the prisoner, but… I’m not surprised she kept reminding you of it,” she said. “You did well with the tomatoes, so I offered to take you on.”

“Offered?” Negan asked, a brow raised.

She nodded. “I said, I could knock some sense into you.”

He laughed, shaking his head again, “Oh, right. Like you and your caterpillar friend have a lot of sense to give.”

“Hey,” she nudged him in the shoulder, as if offended. Negan thought his joke might have gone too far but when she smiled like that at him, with bright eyes and a toothy grin, he’d never felt warmer or happier in any other time of his life.

“So, what’s the verdict, boss?” he asked, putting on a voice.

She eyed him over, making it obvious by the slow movement of her eyes, up and down. She licked her lips, “You’ll do, for now.”

She laughed and they both stood up from the grass, Negan brushed the crumbs off his pants, and they gathered their water and scraps. They’d work for the rest of the day in the patch, until his hawk-eye guard came and took him back to his cage. But at least this time, he knew that when he got locked up again for the night, he had a nice face to dream about.


End file.
